


A Blue That Glitters Like The Stars

by chirichiri



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: my poor girl lizzie's all sad and messed up and confused inside, she's trying so hard to be strong and really just needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chirichiri/pseuds/chirichiri
Summary: Lizzie has seen the radiance for herself. And she will defend it with all her strength, no matter the cost.





	A Blue That Glitters Like The Stars

"Victory to Midford, again! Very good, everyone, Midford, Tavzior, very well done! Everyone break for lunch!"

Elizabeth Midford lowered her sword, panting slightly, and extended a hand to her opponent. The boy--several years Lizzie's senior--gave her hand a sour look, but sighed and let her pull him up. "Good spar," Lizzie told him, smiling. "You nearly had me there with that side swipe."

He offered her a stiff smile then stomped off. Lizzie let her smile go and stepped out of the spar ring. After a drink and drying her face of sweat, she went to an empty stretch of wall and sat down. She turned her sword in her hand, staring at the sliver of her reflection on the polished blade. Normally she'd go looking for Edward during lunch break, but not today. Not today, because . . .

Lizzie looked away from her reflection. Staring to the side at nothing, she continued flipping her sword, feeling at the stones inlaid in the handle with her thumb. Such extravagant decoration for something that got grimy with her sweat and sometimes blood every day. She knew every inch of the sword's handle, from the fine etched lines in the silver to the tiny pearls encrusted in the hilt, and over the years the metal had molded to her hand, becoming an extension of her arm, her mind, her passion. She'd fought hard today. Hard, hot, sweaty, exhausted--and still her blood hungered for more. More action, more calculating her opponent's moves, more chime of blade on blade, more sweat in her eyes and tremble in her muscles. If only she knew what for.

She heard laughter and glanced up. The boy--Tavzior, the instructor had called him--was standing with a group of friends, all watching her and chuckling among themselves. Lizzie twitched and looked away, scanning the crowd for Edward. She decided she did want to break with him, even if she had to hang out with his cricket-loving jocks.

More laughter. "And then she said to me--' _Good spar_ ' and offered me her hand as if she's stronger than me or something. I mean, I _let_ her win just because her mother's terrifying . . ."

Lizzie grit her teeth. Her grip on her sword tightened--painfully, she realized a moment later, looking down at it in surprise. Years of practice had smoothed any rough edges on the handle; what had caused the pain?

A jewel. Massive and heavy, completely throwing off the balance of the blade. And blue. Polished like a mirror. Lizzie stared at it, wondering how it had just appeared, and saw her eye reflected back at her.

Blue jewel.

Blue eye. No, not eye. _Eyes._

**~~~**

Lizzie jolted out of the dream with a gasp, startling at the hand on her arm. She shoved the black-fingernailed hand away from her and reached for her sword leaning against the wall beside her bed. The blade was half-drawn out of its sheath before a familiar shriek of laughter stayed her hand. The intruder, draped in pale clothing and long hair covering most of his face, drew back, still laughing his creepy guffaws.

"Feisty, so feisty, just like the young masters . . ."

"Undertaker," Lizzie breathed, and though her heart began to slow, the sword remained half-drawn. "What are you  _thinking_ , breaking into a lady's room like this!" She drew her covers up to her chest. "Where's Blavat? What are you doing?"

"His Stariness sent me to let you know we have an intruder in our sacred halls . . . no radiance shines from him . . . he sucks it in, a black void . . ."

"The collapsar," Lizzie finished, chilled. Numb.

The Undertaker giggled into his hands.

Lizzie licked her lips, wished for water. "Where is he?"

"Trying to investigate the four doors . . . looking for secrets . . . more radiance to steal, no doubt . . ." He cackled.

She squeezed the sword. Remembered her dream and looked down at it. The jewel was gone. But she knew what it had been. She'd seen it many times before, on the finger of her supposed fiancé.

"Phantomhive," she hissed, forcing the word out. " _He_ sent his butler." Her face twisted. "To find--find Ci--to find Ciel." She forced herself to breathe. "To steal him from me again. More  _lies_."

The Undertaker had drifted to the door of her sleeping chamber. "He awaits your blade, my Lady Beth."

Lizzie hardened herself.  _Don't you dare cry_. She slipped out from bed. "No. He won't know what hit him."

She drew the sword fully from its sheath and held it up in the moonlight slicing through her window. Pressed her thumb over the spot the Phantomhive jewel had sparkled with the deep blue no other gem could. A blue that glittered like the stars themselves. Pure radiance.

Two eyes of the same blue. Pure.  _Truth_.

Elizabeth Midford would protect Ciel Phantomhive--her fiancé, the true Earl and head of the Phantomhive family--from all dangers threatening to steal the light of the stars in his eyes. She  _would_.

Sebastian was only a butler, after all.

She would, even if it shattered the pieces of her heart and bled her from inside out.


End file.
